I HAVE mixed feelings about Sir Chris Hoy – no doubt soon to be anointed Lord Hoy of Edinburgh, if not King of Scotland – and his awesome achievements.

On the one hand, it’ll probably encourage thousands of people to get off their butts and on their bikes with the obvious health benefits. On the other, it’s not going to be brilliant for those of us whose chosen transport is Shanks’ pony, is it?

God knows it was bad enough for us pedestrians before.

Any path labelled a walkway is assumed by your average cyclist to be reserved exclusively for them, so they treat it like a stage of the Tour de France, speeding merrily past, and occasionally over, anyone ambling along.

Heaven help you if you complain. They’re saving the planet, so “get out of the way, peasant”.

I do not think, with the possible exception of a banker, there’s a smugger, more self-satisfied human being than your average hardcore cyclist.

Even worse than the footpath fascists are those who’ve decided the pavements are their personal velodromes, along which they zip, superglued to their handlebars, head down, and oblivious to anyone or anything else.

Not sure which group I hate more – those without bells who are suddenly halfway up your backside, or those who, once they’ve pinged their bell, expect you to leap under a bus so they can fly past without having to stop.

Brakes, like apologies, are apparently for wimps.

And don’t even start me on their unhealthy relationship with Lycra.

What’s that all about?

I’d also make them sit some kind of proficiency test, pay a modest insurance premium and wear a helmet before they saddle up.

To be fair, if I must, some of the blame for all this lies with motorists who flagrantly ignore cycle lanes and have made too many roads killing grounds for the biking brigade.

In the past year, more than 60 have been killed, with 10 times more injured.

But here’s a thing, mile for mile, it’s infinitely more dangerous to walk than it is to cycle. Five times as many pedestrians die on our streets as those who travel by bike – not, I’ll concede, all mown down by cyclists but by what should be our common enemy, the car.

But for some reason, pedestrians’ rights are ignored.

We’ve not got anything like the clout of cyclists with their pressure groups and cheerleaders, including London’s mayor, Boris Johnson, and Posh Dave himself, never mind Sir Hoy, Queen Vic and Wiggo.

Now the two wheelers are basking in the Olympians’ golden glow, nothing, but nothing, is going to put a spoke in their wheels – although, I do find, a rolled up umbrella works reasonably well.